“Into that?” Beau too stepped forward, halting at my other side. He eyed the fog skeptically. “Can we not?”

“L’Eau Mélancolique lies past it.”

“Yes, but surely we can find less overtly ominous access.”

“Le Cœur Brisé is everywhere. One doesn’t access the Wistful Waters without him.”

Célie swallowed hard. “But—we only have three pearls. Madame Sauvage said humans aren’t allowed near the waters. She said they could drive us mad.”

“The waters can drive anyone mad. Human or witch.” Coco straightened her shoulders, still staring into the mist. “But you’re right. We just have three, so we’ll—we’ll walk the path as far as Le Cœur allows, but only Reid, Nicholina, and I will continue to shore.” Her eyes flashed to mine. “If we can pass his test.”

“What test?” I asked with mounting unease. “No one said anything about a test.”

She waved a curt hand. “You’ll pass.” Glancing at Nicholina, however, she added, “I’m not so sure about her, but he only tested us the once. Maybe he won’t this time either—”

Beau pounced on this new information, whirling to point a finger at Coco. Triumphant. Furious. “I knew you were hiding something.”

“Lou and I played at L’Eau Mélancolique as children,” Coco snapped. “It’s hardly a secret. Of course we ran into Le Cœur a time or two. He liked us, so he didn’t ask for pearls. We brought him tricks instead.”

Célie blinked in confusion. “But you said we needed black pearls.”

Huffing impatiently, Coco crossed her arms and looked away. “We do. We did—just not all the time. Lou once magicked them into spiders when he touched them. He’s terrified of spiders.”

A beat of silence.

“And he liked you?” Beau asked, perplexed.

“He liked me better than Lou.”

“Enough.” I hoisted Nicholina higher in my arms, starting toward the path. Tendrils of fog stretched out to meet me, curling around my boots. My ankles. I kicked them away. We were so close. Too close. “We didn’t come all this way to leave now.”

BUT LEAVE YOU SHALL. An abrupt, unfamiliar voice thundered around me, through me, and I stumbled, nearly sending Nicholina face-first into the mist. By the others’ reactions—Célie actually screamed—they’d heard it too. The mist at my feet visibly thickened, swirling up my legs now. I felt its pressure like a vise. Panicked, I leapt backward, and the mist released me. It didn’t stop thickening, however. It didn’t stop speaking. IF YOU CANNOT DRINK OF THE WATERS AND SPILL THEIR TRUTH.

I nearly stepped on Célie in my haste to retreat.

“What is it?” She clutched my arm, clutched Nicholina’s arm, clutched anything to ground herself in reality. But this was our reality—possessions, harbinger dogs, shape-shifting dragons, talking mist. It would never end. “Is it Le Cœur?”